Who is Nicole Shanahan?
Scenes and Opinions Trailing RFK's Oakland Introduction
“I am confident that there’s no American more qualified to play this role than Nicole Shanahan.” — RFK JR.
The night before the big announcement, Team Kennedy gathered at Brigid's (the campaign chief of staff) mother's house in San Francisco for a celebratory dinner to mark the end of an era: RFK Jr. flying solo on the campaign trail. The stressful feat of keeping his running mate's identity a secret was nearly over. In less than 24 hours, the world would know her name.
The house party was reminiscent of how I imagine our founding fathers commenced before a momentous event. It felt wholesomely American, a crowded house buzzing with excitement and centered on hope. Tables were crammed with mismatched dishware and various potluck offerings, homemade beans simmered on the stove of a newly renovated kitchen, as Brigid's mother, who grew up in the house, rushed past us, collecting discarded husks from our tamales and tossing them into a paper bag as she swept by. A makeshift wine bar on the back porch overlooked a manicured garden where well-trained vines crept only along the corners they were intended to. Two homemade cakes were displayed on an antique buffet next to a plate full of bite-sized cheesecakes. One celebrated a staff member's birthday; the other rooted for the candidate who has brought them all together. '
The man of the hour was not in attendance. However, most of the faces were familiar to me. Over the past few months, I've spent more time with Kennedy staffers than my real-life friends. Amidst this journey, at events spread out across the country, many have become kin to me. They trust me as a well-meaning intruder on hand to collect and relay (usually) the better parts of their efforts. I know their children's names and their work titles. I hear about their grievances, highlights, and accolades, as well as the dedication that, on some occasions, is draining them in increasingly challenging ways. Each of their roles are designed to keep the campaign fueled and evolving. Collectively, they must ensure that Bobby's message and intentions remain cohesive, inspiring, and impactful. With these efforts come predictable strife. I hear bits and pieces. Often, I am privy to the celebratory successes and the internal drama both weighing the path to the finish line.
At dinner, I was seated beside Wendy, the woman who runs a prayer group for Kennedy every Sunday online, and the couple who produced the stunning short film on his border visit last summer. I told them how much I enjoyed the movie and how it impacted me, even in broad daylight when it was first revealed in Philadelphia during Kennedy's independent announcement. Across from me, the merch girl whose designs I'm always applauding was seated and smiling next to a friend.
As a visual snapshot of the evening, I panned the scene: mauve walls, antique knickknacks, shelves lined with family photos, and people walking and waving in and out of frame, set to a Paul Simon soundtrack. The 30-second clip captured the warm and nostalgic tone of the night. Even a top Trump advisor took notice, writing, "I must admit the 'RFK Vibe' is very exciting and has such a retro feeling. Perfect song choice!"
After dinner, guests scattered into various corners of the house to mingle. A handful of women peeled away from the group to convene in the front room where the grand piano was situated to stock vinyl bags with necessities like toothbrushes and sanitation wipes to hand out at homeless encampments near the venue. The bags were left unbranded, sans Kennedy logo, as one team member insisted the handout be about civil decency, not political messaging.
“There Is Something New and Miraculous That Has Been Declared”
The evening concluded with prayer. Brigid's mother handed over a copper bell for her to ring earlier in the night, signaling dinner was ready. This time, she secured a chair for her to climb atop in the kitchen to introduce Wendy. The clinking of cutlery and murmurs of conversation came to a quick hush as Wendy stepped into the center of the room, eyes closed, silence circling her, to honor this "sacred moment in time," uniting everyone in the room connected by consciousness, "seeking harmony, and agreement for the higher and greater good for all."
"This is a time each and every single person will remember because it's written on the soul," she said, urging us to remember that we are each serving a greater good as "instruments of the divine” to fulfill a particular purpose. She prayed for Bobby's protection moving forward, asking that he remain "divinely guided, guarded, protected, directed, sustained and maintained."
"We know that right where Bobby is, God is," she told the room.
"See how they speak openly about God in this group?" a young man kneeling beside me asked. "I love that they talk about a higher being; they don't shy away from Bobby's faith. You don't see that in other campaigns."
I didn't want to correct him, to tell him that Trump's events are also laden with spirituality and prayer. Both campaigns place God at the center of their mission. I've dropped my head in prayer at Mar-A-Lago upon every visit. His point was that it is refreshing to have the name of God evoked in politics when, for years, we've grown accustomed to liberal strippings of it.
Grabbing my coat to leave, I walked in on Denise in the dining room scolding a lead staffer for calling her by the wrong name. After months of passing interactions, brief as they sometimes are, she was rightfully insulted and he was genuinely sorry. The exchange manifested a portrait of his apology (my favorite photo of the night) resembling an 80’s John Waters film about campaign follies, bumbling mishaps on the trail between charismatic characters.
I missed my Uber for talking too long to Brigid's father about a remote California cabin they stayed throughout her childhood, accessible only on foot. Halfway out the door someone called us upstairs to join a group photo. Denise and I wandered up to a crowded bedroom and waited for creative direction. In the corner, two men were hunched over a computer screen, working on last-minute edits to a video.
"Is this part of tomorrow's feature?" I asked.
My interest was treated as a startling infraction. Realizing I was privy to this top-secret edit, both men leapt out of their seats, pushing us toward the hallway with frazzled apology. The concern, I realized after, was that I had gained insight into the big "surprise." Except it wasn't a surprise, not for me, and not for anyone at the party. Everyone knew precisely who would be taking the stage the following day. The silent agreement was to pretend we didn't. The ask was akin to an older sibling walking around on Christmas Eve, knowing Santa isn't real but not wanting the younger children to catch on.
A leak two weeks earlier spoiled the mystery. Link Lauren walked past me that day in Austin looking like he'd just seen a ghost. I had no idea at the time he was dealing with news of this spoiler. Everyone was already starting to whisper about why Bobby settled on Nicole Shanahan. What we (I) didn't give much thought to was how to handle the public outcry after his announcement — or how quickly mounting anticipation surrounding a beloved candidate can shift into attack.
The following day, Denise and I pulled up just before 11 am and were greeted by a handful of protestors staked curbside with signs screaming at us for being in the bike lane at drop-off. I asked one of the women how much she was being paid to be there. She scoffed, pushing a finger at me, boasting that she was there to save the country from "this crazy man."
Across the street, Lis Smith's truck was parked to showcase the DNC's latest tactic: a mobile vehicle as makeshift projector to display a slideshow casting slanderous imagery tying Kennedy to Trump and MAGA. Steve Miller's "Take the Money and Run" played on repeat.
The group took turns shouting a rotation of offensive insults about RFK, yelling into their microphones, accusing him of being a MAGA-funded stalking horse. Stereotypical characteristics were on full display with this bunch. The group looked like liberal memes come to life— what you'd expect to pull out of a Halloween costume package for "South Bay leftists at a political protest." Pink-haired and bitter, spewing brainless MSM-carved rhetoric. They said they were from Oakland, but I suspected Berkeley University.
The ranting, combined with the absurdity of the signage, triggered fresh fury in me. It's one thing to bicker with these ranting types online. Face to face, I was easily enraged by being shouted at by the people who pushed for mandates, reduced us to second-class citizens, berated open online discourse, celebrated censorship, applauded the collapse of small business, begged for the firing of anyone who questioned or refused the shot, ridiculed religious convictions, and condemned us for sharing information that conflicted with the holy Fauci-funded protocols they still happily cling to.
"Get the fuck away from us," one shouted, slamming me for being unvaccinated, backing away from the car as I exited.
Just as things started to escalate, Bobby's book publisher, Tony Lyons, appeared looking more amused than confused by the mounting chaos. Spotting him quelled my rage by redirecting my focus. These women weren't worth my energy. And certainly, I didn't need to be caught on camera calling anyone the atrocious names sitting on the edge of my tongue.
Speaking of Insufferable Woman: The Women of View Weigh in
“We Already Have One Clown in the Race, Do We Need Two?”
Venue Hudles
Like most things in Kennedy's path, finding an event space to host the VP announcement proved more challenging than it should have. Several local venues outright refused the team's rental requests, even when additional fees were offered. Rumor was that the DNC "persuaded" all surrounding spaces to refuse inquiries for a Kennedy booking, most of which, seemingly, obliged.
The Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center site they eventually secured previously hosted the city's graduation celebrations. For decades, it is where local seniors gathered to collect their diplomas. In recent years, it had been condemned. On the drive over, I scanned its backstory and found headlines about a creepy discovery unearthed during renovations. A mummified body was found in the walls during the early stages of the demo, discovered in 2022 by a construction crew remodeling the historic downtown building. The footnote was fitting. Of course, the chosen venue came attached to grim local folklore; I'd expect nothing less.
Outside Kyle Kemper baited MAGA scare tactics with train flags, spray paint and humor
Inside, the place was teeming with enthused supporters. On my way to find a decent spot near the stage, several people stopped me to share their journeys and reasons for being there. Oakland, one told me, had done a good job of keeping this event quiet. If not for my stories and promotion, some supporters who lived only a few blocks away would have missed it.
Their personal (political) testimonies were heartwarming. One group of women had me call their group chat on FaceTime to say hello to the other ladies who couldn't be there in person. Another supporter introduced herself, hading me a card, crying when I hugged her. She had just undergone a year of extensive medical issues that made her reliant on prescribed medications. She credited me for introducing her to RFK, who then inspired her to ease herself off of the pills and to read and research alternative means of healing. The confidence she gained in this new path toward alternative healing, she said, changed her life.
The most unexpected delight was bumping into Reinette Senum, former California mayor and candidate for California governor, and her partner Susan. A few years ago, I hosted an event on my back deck so locals could get to know her during her run for Governor. Seeing her there, in support of RFK, was a full-circle surprise but not a shock. Many of her main talking points echoed Kennedy's cornerstone issues. Notably, the power of regenerative farming. It was her grassroots endeavor that awakened new hope in me. I’ll never forget how her Alaskan sledding tale held us captive that night.
Once situated, the guest speaker lineup dragged on (save for Cheryl Hines, who always keeps it short and sweet.) Team Kennedy, like Team Trump, has yet to understand the power of effective pacing. People won't stand 2-3 hours for their favorite rock band, let alone a political speaker.
After several speakers and a moving compilation of impressive compliments, RFK finally introduced Nicole Shanahan. She appeared onstage looking young and vibrant in a purple pantsuit before delivering an emotional speech about how she ended up on this path with Bobby. A few times, she broke into tears. In her impassioned address, Shanahan spoke about a rough childhood growing up on food stamps, raised by an immigrant mother and a father who struggled with addiction.
Her mother was standing beside me when she spoke. I watched her watching Nicole instead of the stage where the action was. Her pride, evident in every crinkled line on her face.
In addition to personal remarks, Nicole unveiled a scathing critique of the Democratic Party as a whole, declaring her departure from the left: "It has lost its way." She emphasized concerns about our food supply — a priority issue both she and Kennedy share — and voiced skepticism toward modern medicine and vaccines, echoing Kennedy's advocacy without outright acknowledging a direct link to autism. "No safety study can assess the cumulative impact of one prescription after another after another, one shot after another and another, throughout the course of childhood," she said.
The tragic tale of her daughter gripped my attention. She described the painstaking reality many mothers who support Kennedy sadly relate to — bringing home a healthy, thriving baby who rapidly started to decline after her vaccines. She detailed what that was like watching her baby go from happy and thriving to gradually unable to even sit on her own.
Shanahan expressed another connective RFK talking point: apprehensions about "electromagnetic pollution." She cited the conspiracy theory surrounding the health implications of 5G and Wi-Fi signals, for which Bobby has taken plenty of heat.
"This independent movement comes at a time of extreme division in America that threatens to tear this country apart," Shanahan declared with conviction. "It is time for a realignment. It is time, as Bobby Kennedy says, to focus on our unifying values rather than our divisions."
Urging us to scrutinize Kennedy's vision for America, she proclaimed, "It is a vision that I share, too, as I back his campaign and focus the next seven months of my life getting him on each and every ballot in this country!" With these sentiments, Shanahan cemented her commitment to championing Kennedy's cause, signaling a bold departure from traditional party lines in pursuit of a shared vision for the nation's future.
Who is Nicole Shanahan? “A Political Unknown With a Lot of Money”
Her online bio is sparse and mostly unflattering. Key points highlight her funding Kennedy's Super Bowl commercial and a rumored affair with Elon Musk. Footnotes define her by extreme wealth and a sex scandal. Beyond that, she's more intriguing if you're willing to read a little deeper (though right-leaning supporters are solidly turned off by her attributes — nothing scares MAGA more than someone identifying as "progressive").
Shanahan, 38, is a self-made woman. A wealthy California lawyer, philanthropist, and daughter of a Chinese immigrant, raised on welfare in a single-parent household in Oakland. During law school, she spent time abroad studying intellectual property and Chinese law at the National University of Singapore. She is the founder and president of the Bia-Echo Foundation, a private nonprofit that issues grants for "reproductive longevity, equality, criminal justice reform, and the environment."
In an interview with The Times, Shanahan stated she was "not an anti-vaxxer," adding that vaccines had historically been a "very helpful" part of public health measures.
In the 2010s and 2020s, she made substantial contributions to left-leaning organizations and Democratic political candidates, including $25,000 to Joe Biden's fundraising committee in 2020 and $19,400 to the DNC that same year. She has also previously donated to Hillary Clinton's, Marianne Williamson's, and Pete Buttigieg's campaigns. In 2020, she was a "major donor" for Measure J, a criminal justice reform referendum in Los Angeles, CA. In 2020, Shanahan contributed $150,000 to support George Gascón as Los Angeles' DA, who conservatives believe has "single-handedly driven LA into a hellish landscape with soft-on-crime extreme progressivism."
Shanahan married Sergey Brin, the co-founder of Google, in 2018. They had a daughter shortly after but filed for divorce in January 2022. The Wall Street Journal cited a "brief affair" with Elon Musk in 2021 as a reason for the breakup. Both Shanahan and Musk denied the report, but the WSJ refused to retract it, stating: "We are confident in our sourcing, and we stand by our reporting."
In 2023, Shanahan participated in a "love ceremony," professing her commitment to partner Jacob Strumwasser. She described the event as "a handfasting ceremony influenced by Druidic tradition." The pair met at the Burning Man festival in summer 2022.
Announcement Excerpt
“It’s unclear how much wealth Shanahan has, but Forbes estimates it could be as much as hundreds of millions of dollars. Part of Shanahan’s wealth comes from founding a company that uses artificial intelligence to help patent holders manage intellectual property. Another source comes from her former marriage to Google co-founder Sergey Brin from 2018 to 2022. The Wall Street Journal reported that the two divorced after she allegedly had an affair with Tesla CEO Elon Musk, though both Shanahan and Musk have denied the claim. After divorcing Brin, Shanahan focused on philanthropic work. She currently serves as the president of a charity called the Bia-Echo Foundation, which focuses on, among other things, “reproductive longevity” and “a healthy and livable planet.”
Even before accepting Kennedy’s offer to join his ticket, Shanahan had flexed her financial muscles. Earlier this year, she gave $4 million to a pro-Kennedy super PAC to help pay for a Super Bowl ad. She also helped produce that ad, which, to the chagrin of many in Kennedy’s family, likened his presidential bid to his uncle John F. Kennedy’s 1960 White House run.” — NBC
The backlash following her reveal was instant. I woke to an ambush of angry texts and DMs. In recent months, I've grown accustomed to debating critiques of RFK with fair success. People following me find him intriguing, to the point that a portion of MAGA diehards in my audience have shifted their support from Trump to Kennedy based simply on the story slides I share daily.
Instead of rushing to his defense, I resolved to listening to the public's opinions. Many felt betrayed by his selection. My neighbor, a former Trump stan who flipped because of my RFK coverage, texted me the following morning, threatening that if Mike didn't strip the Kennedy bumpersticker from the old rusted bus parked out front, he would do it for him. He was kidding. But barely.
The attacks on Nicole’s appearance reminded me how much harder women in politics have it. "Her hair is too long. Everyone knows women in Washington can't have it past their shoulders," a commentator in the industry wrote. No one liked the purple pantsuit. There was plenty of outrage over her wardrobe alone.
“Her voice is too shrill,” “she cries too much.” The list went on.
The more paranoid takeaway is that she is a raging globalist operating under a masked liberal agenda with extensive ties to elite corners of the tech industry that MAGA and moderates equally loathe. From my standpoint, being one of RFK's most prominent online supporters, the week after this reveal felt like being at the center of a house of cards crumbling.
Rising to her defense was the "warrior mom" crowd. They applauded his pick as a valued (much appreciated) risk. In Nicole, they see someone willing to stand up for them as the neglected voices of vaccine-injured children, a woman dedicated to tackling Big Pharma and fighting for medical freedom with the funds to back this war.
I saw it as a strategic money move. If she could help fund his campaign and help him financially overcome the obstacles he's up against as a third-party candidate, so be it. Certainly, it didn't ease my heartache over him losing Tulsi. In my mind, that pairing is where they stormed the election. But even in entertaining valid skepticism, I was willing to give Nicole a fair shot.
Round Up of Next Day Musings
The Tim Pool crew breaks down the allure of Shanahan on RFK’S ticket: “Maybe this is what the Democrats deserve.”
Immediately following the announcement, Lis Smith was out for blood. Her Twitter feed quickly morphed into a burn book for Nicole.
Following the announcement, Smith lambasted RFK's team for choosing a no-name with zero experience and failing to push her into the public immediately following her reveal. Smith mentioned that Nicole Shanahan remained virtually silent for four days following Oakland. Her Instagram account was still locked on private, and she had yet to appear on any major media outlets for interviews, leaving the public scrambling to figure out who she is and why she is worthy of such a position.
In this particular slamming, Smith, as much as I hate to admit it, was right. Team Kennedy dropped the ball by introducing an unfamiliar and unconventional choice as his running mate, then neglecting to effectively set her up for smart messaging under their guide, instead of letting rushed assumptions and paranoia shape first impressions. The lapse bred further skepticism.
What is clear is that her money changes everything. Despite having any political background, her financial contributions and connections will undoubtedly bolster his campaign's longevity. Kennedy has a more realistic shot as a third-party candidate. But how do you sell financial support as an inspiring to the general public?
After Party
At the VIP afterparty hosted by Kennedy’s super PAC, RFK and Nicole both gave brief speeches to an intimate room sectioned off in the back of a seafood restaurant. After the room emptied out, Sue, Bobby's assistant, caught a woman sneering at the books stacked outside the private area. "Do you want to take home a copy?" she asked. "No way," the woman answered, visibly horrified by the offer. After ten minutes of conversation, me countering her every bias, I convinced her that Kennedy was at least worth her interest. In the end, she took a copy of his book home with her.
"You were amazing," Sue said after she walked away, shocked by the dramatic switch in her demeanor.
"Sometimes, all it takes is engaged conversation," I said laughing, gathering my things to catch a waiting car.
On my way out, I asked a waiter clearing plates to lift the shades shielding the party. When he did it revealed the last sliver of sunset spanning the length of the room in a dazzling view hidden during the celebratory reception. Standing there alone, I took a phone call from someone directly embedded in the political stratosphere mocking RFK's VP decision. "Do they know everyone in Washington is laughing at them?" they asked.
It doesn't matter I thought, watching the last flash of sunlight sink into the sea. Somewhere in an unknown city at 3 PM on a Sunday Wendy will be unveiling her next sermon, asking that God and his appointed "instruments"continue to protect, provide, and guide him into some divinely carved place where purpose encases power and hopefully shifts the tides of expected outcome.
Thank you for this post. I have been asking this question for a while. It is heartening to know the backstory behind the choice. While RFK, and Nicole Shannahan, have a long way to go to earn my consideration, I at least have a better understanding of the thought process behind this selection.
However, what I am most grateful for is your continued coverage, of both the highs and lows of the RFK and the Trump campaigns. I think this piece is a fine example of what a good journalist does-examines every piece of a campaigns approach with clarity to evaluate what is working, and what is not. It is for this reason alone I wish the Biden campaign were as open to you. Keep up the excellent reporting and I will keep following along and reading. I am sure many others will as well.
I’ve been waiting for this! My two short takes when I saw her announced:
1. Her fidgety body language did not exude confidence nor preparedness for such a vital roll. I’m all for an unknown name, but it has to come along with great comfort in front of a crowd.
2. I saw a comment recently that also made me pause. Despite her child’s vax injury, she has not done anything to change the laws in California. Now, maybe this statement is wrong? Maybe she has been making impossible strides? Correct me if I’m wrong.
Regardless, your take on a silent social and her not running the media, podcast circuit is a great point. There should have been a massive plan in place so we could instantly get to know her more.